#i'm not as inspired by all of the prompts so I am doing them sort of piecemeal

[big-girls-forever]

Kinktober 9: CONTENTS UNDER PRESSURE

Massively Milky 🥛 / Euphoria 💖 (Using the Kinktober by wonderful @fatguarddog)

Length: 2673 words

Tags: lactation, lesbians, belly expansion, bloating, weight gain, rapid weight gain, hot ladies in pencil skirts, inexplicable levels of lactation, some mild intox

Hannah was just finishing up the mopping in the first public bathroom when she heard a loud yelp of pain from the other one. Hannah thought this was a bit unusual. She’d been a janitor for this building for a good long while, before the new company even moved in. Working the night shift and cleaning up was honestly a lot more relaxing than it was with the previous corporation that used the place as an office. The new folks - VitaTech - had cordoned off a few areas as “laboratory sections” which she didn’t have access to and didn’t have to clean, which meant less work for her for better pay. Occasionally, someone would stay after hours to finish up some paperwork, but hearing a sudden and pained yell from a bathroom was certainly new. She moved her cart with a little more haste than normal.

When she walked in, she saw a woman standing at the far end of the line of sinks. She was a petite, short girl in classic office lady attire: a pencil skirt and a white button-up. The button-up had been messed with slightly. Her collar was off and a few of the top buttons had been undone. She turned to look at Hannah while speaking on the phone.

“Ugh, listen,” she said, “I’ll- you don’t have to come back in. I’ll figure it out. Get an Uber or something. It’s my fault really. Yeah. See you tomorrow. Yeah, I’m putting it in the report. Bye.”��

The office lady sighed. 

“I’m sorry,” she said, turning to Hannah, “I’ll be out of your way.”

Her face looked red and flushed, and she was sweating. Hannah gave her a smile of concern.

“You sure? You sounded like you were hurt there, and… you don’t look like you’re doing so hot, if I’m being honest. You can stay as long as you need, I’ve got the whole night to clean up.”

“Oh, that’s very kind of you,” said the woman. She started to fix her collar in the mirror. “Oh, yeah, I guess I am kinda sweating a lot.” 

Hannah leaned on her cart.

“If I can ask… what’s the matter?”

“You know what they do here… it’s embarrassing, and it’s painful.”

“Ah, geez,” said Hannah. She knew that VitaTech were some sort of biotech company, but wasn’t exactly sure how that related to this poor girl’s issue. Maybe she had to do some heavy lifting in the lab? It was hard to say. She didn’t look like a person who had done much physical labor. Still, Hannah wasn’t really a woman to leave a girl in need.

“Hey,” she said, “If you need a lift to the pharmacy or whatever, I can totally give it.”

“It’s not really a pharmacy problem,” she said. She winced slightly as she moved.

“Hospital?”

“I don’t want the bill,” she said, “I just… sometimes working for this company is sort of ridiculous, okay? I don’t want to involve you if you aren’t down with it, it’s really like… weird to talk about.”

Hannah grinned lightly.

“What’s your name?”

“Cassie.”

“Cassie, I’ve spent the last three years cleaning up the vomit of middle-aged businessmen who liked to day drink. Seriously, you’d think you were watching Mad Men with how much liquor the guys in here were putting away before VitaTech came in. Whatever it is, I promise I won’t be fazed by it.” 

This made the woman laugh a little.

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure.”

“Fine,” she said, “If you’re really so curious, the problem is… I’m an accountant, but I’m also a tester for VitaTech. Whenever they’re workshopping a new product, it usually goes through someone like me first.”

“So, you like, have a condition or something?” Asked Hannah, “I mean, I know they make some kind of drugs here, I’ve seen the warning signs on the labs.”

“No, no,” she said, “The drugs they make are mostly recreational. At least I think.”

Hannah squinted at the sweating, ruddy-faced woman in front of her.

“Like MDMA?”

“No, let me get to it. They were… how do I put this. They’re testing a drug that’s supposed to induce lactation, and I quote ‘above and beyond the normal capacity for a human.’ Which is, the, uh, problem. Because they’ve yet to figure out the quirk where a user needs some degree of suction to get the milk out.”

“What?” 

“And today I was super busy trying to handle the accounts because apparently we had an incident over at one of the subsidiaries - a happy accident really, it seems like we actually made a customer for life but still some stuff had to be handled involving minor costs and I had to work with some people on that. You know how it is. Anyways my point being that I was so busy that I totally forgot to go to the milking machine today.”

“What?” Repeated Hannah, still trying to process the first parts of what she had said. There was a very long and awkward silence.

“Yeah, I know, it’s weird,” said Hannah, “And kinda painful. Because they’re so tender.” 

“You just said that you have so much milk in your breasts that it hurts because you’re an under the table-”

“I’m salaried.”

“A salaried test subject for lactation drugs. For recreational purposes.” 

“Yep.”

There was a long, long silence as Hannah stared at Cassie, and Cassie stared at her, and as they stared longer and longer there was silently an acknowledgement of mutual attraction that made the scenario only more awkward. She was a pretty brunette, she was well-dressed, and she was talkative in a way that made Hannah want to smile. Now, she had informed her that it was in fact medically necessary for her nipples to be suckled because her breasts were so sore from being so full of milk. Though she had not known, Hannah suddenly felt as though her whole romantic life, from the crush she had on her art teacher in grade school to her disastrous attempts at wooing college girls to now, had been preparing her for the occasion when a cute femme absolutely needed, beyond a shadow of a doubt, to have her nipples sucked. The only remaining question was whether Cassie was thinking along the same lines, and how to approach it.

“So,” said Cassie first, “I guess I’m gonna be calling that Uber…”

“Uh,” said Hannah, “Well, I don’t have the keys for the labs, but, maybe we could figure something out to get you out of here without you being in pain.”

Cassie seemed to look down at Hannah’s nametag.

“Hannah - you’re Hannah, right?”

“Right.”

“I know what you’re thinking. They’re still trying to test if this stuff is just regular milk still. And also I have no idea how much is in there right now.”

The silence continued for a while, then Cassie sighed.

“But, if you insist, then…”

Cassie leaned up against the wall and slowly, and began to unbutton her shirt, revealing what looked like a slightly modified maternity bra. Hannah stepped forward slowly as she reached for the hooks on the bra.

“Oh, come on, I’m a woman, not a raccoon,” she said, “I’m not going to run away if you make a sudden move.” 

Hannah laughed and walked the rest of the way to her, and helped her unhook her bra. Sure enough, her breasts were small, but as she moved they looked almost stiff with how full and engorged they were. Her areolae were wide and brown as if she were pregnant, and they were spotted with little white dots of milk. Cassie then sat herself down on the floor with another slight yelp. Hannah followed her.

“Do you have any idea how dirty these floors get?” Asked Hannah.

 “No,” she said, “But I trust your work from last night. Now, get to work. And remember, no teeth.”

Hannah smiled and gently put her head to the girl’s chest, and then took her lips to a tit. At even a slight suction, milk began to spurt into her mouth, like a soda can that you shook before opening it. Hannah grunted in surprise and swallowed but didn’t let up; she was sure that at this rate she’d be dry in no time. Cassie sucked in some air, a noise somewhere between pain and arousal, and took one of her hands to Hannah’s head and brushed her fingers through her hair, then pushed her harder into her breast. 

“Keep sucking,” she said, “Harder.”

Hannah of course obliged and kept to her work. Cassie’s milk was surprisingly sweet and rich. She had known that it would be different from the sort that you got at the store, of course, but even with that this was extremely abnormal. So she kept on suckling, and suckling and suckling on her nipple. Cassie was mostly silent except for an occasional muffled moan or deep breath in, though she kept her hand firmly on Hannah’s head so that she couldn’t stop drinking. 

Not that she would want to stop. As she drank, she felt increasingly warm and bloated and yet there was no sign of Cassie’s milk stopping. In fact, she could feel herself getting a heavier belly with each passing moment from the sheer mass of milk that she was swallowing, which felt plainly impossible. Faintly, she became aware of the sound of the zipper on her uniform slowly pushing itself downward from the growing size of her own gut. Hannah felt like she should have been a little distressed by that, but she felt so warm and happy from all the milk that it was a little hard for her to feel anything other than nice. The feeling was almost like being drunk, if only a little milder. 

Eventually, slowly, she felt the milk coming from Cassie’s tit slow down and then practically stop. When she pulled away and looked down, she was astonished to see how bloated her belly was. Her uniform had pulled down to the point where she could see the white tee-shirt that she was wearing underneath, and her gut was so full that it looked like she was six months pregnant. Cassie seemed entirely undisturbed by this. She reached up and grabbed her handbag from the place where she left it on the sinks, and then pulled out her phone. 

“Might as well get some work done,” she said, “Are you feeling alright?”

“I feel great,” Hannah said woozily, “Oh wow. This, uh milk. Kinda making me like… a mix of horny and… happy? Like drunk happy. Couple of beers happy.”

“Ooh, that’s new,” said Cassie, “Your belly doesn’t hurt or anything?”

Hannah shook her head.

“Feels great!”

“Okay, I’m putting down elasticity and some mild intoxicatory effects in the notes… there. Done.” 

She put her phone back away, and then looked at Hannah again.

“Do you think you’re done? I’ve got two tits, Hannah.”

“Oh, yeah!” Said Hannah eagerly, “Your milk is also really tast-”

Her compliments were cut off by Cassie pushing Hannah’s head into her other tit. Almost automatically her lips latched onto her nipple and began to suck. She felt increasingly adoring of Cassie and her tits that were giving her so much to drink. Her head felt like it was floating and she felt a shock through her body every time Cassie moaned again. Increasingly, the moans went away from pain and towards a pure and animal arousal. 

“Good girl,” said Cassie, “Good, good, keep at it.” 

Now whatever effect the milk was having on her was truly hitting her. Her urge to giggle was only overwhelmed by her ever-growing love of sucking on tits, and of Cassie. She felt like she was floating even as she felt that her gut was getting heavier and heavier, and getting perilously close to the ground. The zipper on her jumpsuit was almost certainly reaching the bottom now, and she could feel the cool air on her belly as her shirt rode up over her bloated belly. And then, just as with the first one, she ran out of milk to drink. This time, Cassie had to gently dislodge her from her breast. Hannah flopped backwards and rested on the back wall, giggling and sighing.

“Hahaha,” she said, “No more milk! Job done!”

“Thank you very much,” said Cassie, “Are you… alright?” 

“Oh I’m fine,” she said, slurring her words, “Super. Oh my God. Do you see my belly?”

“Yeeeep,” said Cassie, “They did say one of the side-effects could be pressurized lactation. Looks like you got the brunt of it.” 

Hannah tried to touch her tender, full belly and groaned. It sloshed slightly with milk as she moved it. 

“Aw, man, this is so much,” she said, “I guess it’s good that I’m bulking. Oh well, time to finish my… rounds and stuff.” 

She tried to stand and almost immediately fell off balance, barely able to keep herself from falling over. Cassie caught her and helped her up, smiling gently.

“Woah, there,” she said, “Looks like you can’t really balance yourself. I’m gonna- how about this. I’m sure our bosses will understand that what you did tonight was really nice.”

“Nice…?”

“Yeah,” said Cassie, “You’re basically a superhero for this. You don’t need to worry about mopping the rest of the floor.”

Cassie began to fix her own clothes, putting herself back together.

“I’m good to drive now. You clearly aren’t in any state to do so,” she said, “How about we go back to my place… sober you up, lack of a better term, and we’ll explain ourselves tomorrow?”

That sounded just wonderful to Hannah. She nodded vigorously, and followed Cassie out of the office on tottering legs.

***

Hannah woke up with a headache and a strange feeling of softness. She groaned and fumbled around on an unfamiliar bed, trying to remember what had happened the previous night. She had definitely met a very nice woman named Cassie. That woman had… had some drinks with her after work? That part wasn’t clear. She remembered feeling kind of drunk, but not drinking anything with alcohol in it. Then they went over to Cassie’s place. She definitely saw Cassie’s tits at some point, she was definitely sure of that, and they were very pretty. As she opened her eyes to the faint light, she saw Cassie next to her, already up, wearing sweatpants and a sports bra.

“What happened last night?” Muttered Hannah.

“Do you remember the milk?”

Hannah was suddenly hit with the rest of the memories of what had happened, though there was still a large blank for what happened after she left work. She had gotten inexplicably drunk and ridiculously full on another woman’s milk, and then gone home with her, and then.

“Oh fuck,” she said, “Did we have sex?”

“No,” said Cassie, “Well, unless you consider vigorous nursing and you continually pawing at me throughout the night for more milk to be sex. Also, you’re fat now.”

“What?”

Hannah suddenly sat up in bed and nearly screamed. Just as inexplicable as Cassie’s tits was her own overnight transformation. Her thighs were thicker, and so were her arms, now heavy with plush fat. Her breasts had likewise gotten a big leg up, now sagging onto the most changed part of her body. Gone were the abs that had taken so much hard work. Now, she had a large, soft apron of fat that spilled over her waist. After taking it in for a moment, she laid back and groaned.

“That’s going to take forever to work off at that gym,” Hannah said. 

“Oh, don’t worry,” said Cassie, “I’ll take you to the researchers, they’ll get you back in shape in no time.” 

Cassie paused and looked at her, and then slowly began to take off her bra.

“But before we go… I think I’m full again. Mind if you help?” 

Hannah rolled her eyes, and then gladly aided a woman in need once more.

[redflagshipwriter]

ANOTHER UNDEAD FENTON

Inspiration came from this post by @stars-obsession-pit !

Word count: 1479

Masterpost of Archive Down Fics here.

(I wrote three dp x dc fics based off of prompts I've seen in the last day for reading while the site is getting maintenance. )

There was a high, shrill scream in the Fenton lab.

Maddie bolted for the stairs, abandoning her coffee without a thought. She flung herself down to see Jack bent over a body in front of the portal.

“Is this person a threat?” Maddie prepared to defend her husband, but the body didn't move.

Jack looked up at her. “No, I was just surprised! I think he's hurt, Mads.”

Her bleeding heart husband. She crossed the room and rolled their intruder over to see it was a kid, maybe Danny's age. In his sleep, he had a sweet, soft face. His face and throat were covered in faint scars.

Well. That was one of hers, now. No getting around it. That was a teenage boy on her floor who has obviously been the victim of violence.

“Well, shit,” Maddie said companionably. She blew out air between her teeth. “Dear, would you put clean sheets on in Jazz's room?”

They were running out of space, between the clones and the past evil alternate future children.

Jack saluted her, shouted an affirmation , and bounded away.

Maddie took a moment to wonder if her children would be an infinitely expanding collection and if so, if it would be better to move into Vlad's castle than to build the home addition they had planned for.

She gathered the teenager up in her arms despite him being her size, and laid him out on an exam table. She started checking his vitals.

A hand shot out and grabbed her by the wrist.

“Good morning, sweetheart,” Maddie said. She redirected her hand to smooth hair behind his ear. He blearily followed the movement, just as obviously intelligent as he was obviously compromised. She didn't know if it was a concussion or drugs or what, but this boy was not well. “It's Friday June 29th, and you're in Amity Park, Illinois. I'm Madeleine Fenton and you're at my house because you fell through a portal. Is there someone I should call for you?”

He stared at her. She could see the moment he decided not to speak to her.

That situation didn't change much all day. The kid walked himself up to bed and peered around at Jazz's old posters. He seemed to want to be alone, but Maddie caught him watching Dani and Dan playing catch in the yard. She made eye contact with him over her book and then looked back at her shrieking kids. Dan was doing flips on the trampoline and launching his sister in the air, catching and tossing her back up in the nick of time between flips.

Their new boy closed his curtains.

“I was thinking about Dante,” Jack said, bringing out a pitcher of iced tea. “Or, how about Jasper! Eh? Eh? You know, like Jazz-per?” Jack belly laughed.

“He probably has his own name,” Maddie said calmly. She'd estimated him at 16 or so, anyway. But whatever. If he wasn't going to give them a name, they did eventually need something to call him. And they needed to sort out accommodation fast, before Jazz got back from her college tour trip.

“Let's go with Jasper until he gives us his real name.” There were enough Ds in her home, honestly.

She lured Jasper out of his room for lunch. He sat at the kitchen table and watched them all warily. He only ate what they ate.

Danny arrived mid-meal. “Mom! Dad!” There was a whumpf as he probably threw himself onto the sofa. “We wanna go to Elmerton, that ok?”

“You should take your brother with you,” Maddie called back. “He needs clothes.”

“What?” Danny clearly pried himself up and came into the kitchen. Maddie silently offered to make him a plate. “No, I ate at Tuck's. Dan, what'd you do to your clothes?”

“Nothing, you pathetic worm,” said Dan, who really was a sensitive boy. “I am not the topic of discussion, you blithering fool.” He jerked a finger at Jasper. “New one.”

Danny stared.

Jasper looked uncomfortable. He gave a sort of hello nod.

“He's, uh, he's not-”

“Not a clone or alternate future version of you, nope,” Maddie agreed. “Though he did come out of the portal. We wondered if he might be a ghost, but it didn't seem necessary to ask.”

Jasper full body flinched at the word “ghost”, but he looked confused.

Danny squinted at his new bother who, it must be said, did look a bit like a Fenton already. “Not a ghost,” he said after a long pause. “But a little undead. Not sure what kind. But yeah, you're walking dead, buddy.” He clapped Jasper on the shoulder.

“You'll fit right in!” Jack cheered. “Dan is half dead! So is Danno! And so is Dani here! And-”

“Thank you, Jack,” Maddie cut him off. “It might be a sensitive subject, don't you think?”

“Nah,” said Danny, stealing food out of the pan despite saying he wasn't hungry. “We aren't that sensitive. Like-” he looked at Jasper and explained: “I got electrocuted to death in the lab two years ago. Dan is from an alternate future where everyone he loved died, so then he killed everyone else on earth. And Dani is a science experiment baby.”

“It's true,” Dani said solemnly. “I'm a work of science.”

“You make me sound so uncool,” Dan complained, stabbing at his spaghetti.

Jasper laughed for the first time. He himself seemed surprised by the sound. It was hoarse but there was promise there.

When the boys were off at the mall in Elmerton with Sam and Tucker, Maddie called up Vlad.

“You want to come here?”

“I’ve got more kids than I have rooms in my house,” she said wryly. “So if the offer is still open…”

“Yes, of course it is,” he assured her. “But- most of the little ones are still in the Ghost Zone, correct?”

“They're not big enough to leave yet,” Maddie agreed. “Which is why I need to be near a portal.” The ghostlings were staying with the LunchLady and Box Ghost, but they needed to be able to be in touch. “But no, I've got another one.”

Glass shattered in the background. “Another- what happened to Daniel this time?”

Maddie laughed at how flustered her old college friend got. “Nothing to do with Danny, actually, this one fell out of the portal. He's some level of partly dead, but we don't think he's a ghost at all.”

Left unsaid was that they needed to do a lot of research to figure out what other possibilities there were. If they could get into contact with Danny's GP, he might be able to get them on the right track.

“Well.” Vlad took a moment to rally. “When will the family be arriving?”

Two months later, all the kids were pretty settled in.

Jasper had never shared a name, but he was happy to let them call him Jay. He was a phenomenal big brother to Dani. He wrestled with Dan. He bullied Danny into doing his homework. It had been something of an administrative nightmare to get Jaspen enrolled in school, but Vlad had pulled off whatever magic trick he'd done for Dani (applied a lot of money to the problem, Maddie supposed) and Jay had settled in very well.

“Your debut in society,” Maddie hummed, making a point of straightening Jay’s tie. He was growing already, she was sure of it! He was going to wind up as tall as Jack.

“I've been to parties before, Mom,” Jay drawled, and then flushed a dark red that meant he didn't want to be asked questions. Maddie tweaked his nose instead of answering.

“But this is the first one where Vlad's introducing you to his business friends!” She said, already dressed up for a fun night. Vlad had flown them all in on his private jet for the day.

“Queen is a family man as well,” Vlad had said the night before, aiming for calculating and coming off soft. “It will put him off his guard or perhaps make him sick with envy that I have brought a higher quality child than he could ever manage to produce.”

They arrived together, Maddie on Jack's arm, keeping her flock of kids within eyesight as Vlad led the pack. She had a perfect view of Oliver Queen seeing them arrive, the smile dropping off his face, and him choking on his drink. He did look very silly, Maddie had to admit.

“Inept,” Vlad hissed, very pleased. “The fool can't even drink. His company will be mine-” he looked at Danny for some reason. Vlad faltered at whatever be saw. “....Through legitimate business practices, such as buying a majority of stocks,” Vlad weakly finished.

Maddie slapped him on the back. “Go get him, tiger.”

[jonnywaistcoat]

Hey, Horrormaster Sims. I have a wildly different question that barely relates to TMA (Sorry about that) but its about your own process. Please, if you could, can you tell me how your first drafts made you feel? I'm on the fence about writing my own thing (not a podcast, and again, not Magnus related, though I have a million little aus for that delightful tragedy you wrote, thank you for that!) But I'm discouraged by the collective notion that first drafts are always terrible, because there's no ... examples I can solidly use to help the dumb anxiety beast in my brain that tells me everyone who is in any way popular popped out a golden turd and not, well, you know. One of my friends said 'Oh I bet Jonathan Sims's first draft was nothing like what he wanted' and I got the bright idea to just. Send you an ask, since you're trapped on this hellsite like I am. Anyway, thanks for reading this (if you do) and if you'd rather ask it privately, I am cool with that. Alternatively, you're a hella busy man with Protocol (you and Alex are making me rabid, i hope you know) and you can just ignore this! Cheers, man, and good words.

To my mind all writing advice, especially stuff that's dispensed as truisms (like "first drafts are always garbage") are only useful inasmuch as such advice prompts you to pay attention to how you write best: what helps your workflow, what inspires you, what keeps you going through the rough bits. There are as many different ways to write (and write well) as there are people who write and so always consider this sort of thing a jumping off point to try out or keep in mind as you gradually figure out your own ways of writing.

On first drafts specifically, I think the wisdom "all first drafts are bad" is a bit of unhelpful oversimplification of the fact that, deadlines notwithstanding, no piece of writing goes out until you decide its ready, so don't get too hung up on your first draft of a thing, because a lot of writers find it much easier to edit a complete work than to try and redraft as they go. It's also important to not let perfectionism or the fact your initial draft isn't coming out exactly how you want stop you from actually finishing the thing, as it's always better to have something decent and done than to have something perfect and abandoned.

But the idea of a "first draft" is also kind of a fluid one. The "first draft" you submit to someone who's commissioned you will probably be one you've already done a bunch of tweaks and edits to, as opposed to the "first draft" you pump out in a frenzy in an over-caffeinated weekend. For my part, my first drafts tend to end up a bit more polished than most, because I'm in the habit of reading my sentences out loud as I write them (a habit picked up from years of audio writing) so I'll often write and re-write a particular sentence or paragraph a few times to get the rhythm right before moving to the next one. This means my first drafts tend to take longer, but are a bit less messy. I'm also a big-time planner and pretty good at sticking to the structures I lay out so, again, tend to front load a lot of stuff so I get a better but slower first draft.

At the end of the day, though, the important thing is to get in your head about it in a good way (How do I write best? what helps me make writing I enjoy and value? What keeps me motivated?) and not in a bad way (What if it's not good enough? What if everyone hates it? What if it doesn't make sense?) so that you actually get it done.

As for how my first drafts made me feel? Terrible, every one of 'em No idea if that's reflective of their quality, though, tbh - I hate reading my own writing until I've had a chance to forget it's mine (I can only ever see the flaws). I suppose there's theoretically a none-zero chance they were pure fragments of True Art and creative perfection, but Alex's editing notes make that seem unlikely.

[miffysrambles]

haiii!! Thisbis my first time doing a request and im actually embarassed and prob u gonna decline it and find me weird and and- jdkgjwlej (overthinking rn)

Let me breathe before saying the embarassing request-

Could i request an Moon Goddess Reader x Wukong? (The design for reader inspired on Moonlight cookie :33 I'M A FAN FOR HER AND SEA FAIRY-) like some sun and moon stuff? It can be romantic and how they met for first time! It can be headcanons or anything you want

Again- sorry for the request im just so nervous and embarassed.

-Ander :3

[HELLO FELLOW COOKIE RUN FAN !!! it's not embarrassing at all, it's a very cute prompt !!]

[NOT PROOFREAD BC I AM TIRED]

Wukong with a Moon Goddess S/O

Wukong had first met you when you landed on one of the beaches on Flower Fruit Mountain.

Your impact caused quite a crash, being able to be heard from his hut with all the monkeys nearby freaking out from the loud noise. 

Wukong immediately went to check it out, holding an arm out in defense of the small simians behind him when he saw your form slowly sit up on the sand below you. 

When he saw it was a deity, he kept his guard up of course but something about you was just so… alluring?

He couldn't keep his eyes off your features as he slowly walked towards you, bending down to gently help you up. 

“Hey, you ok there?” His voice spoke lowly to you as you turned around, and it was like love at first sight if you could believe it!

He felt a boom in his chest as his eyes met yours, he swore he could see beyond the cosmos in your (eye-colored) pools.

Once you explained you were a moon goddess and you accidentally landed here from your magic, he decided he was gonna help ya!

Over the next few months, you stayed with Wukong on FFM (despite you could easily get back home, you two were just too curious about one another) and you two hit it off quite well. Whether it was telling each other stories or just sitting next to each other and enjoying the other's company. 

He also found your powers and magic kinda funny, it was like the complete opposite of his, just like you.

He was the light and you were the night after all. 

Despite being so different, you balanced each other quite well, you were softspoken and calm while he was just the complete opposite of that.

He loves to take you on his cloud, you both would fly through the sky and land at a random spot to star gaze.

He loved it when you talked about the cosmos, you were so passionate about them and he could listen to you talking about them for hours.

Stargazing on a random cliffside was actually the place he decided to confess, despite being the self proclaimed great sage he was BEYOND nervous.

Although it had only been about a year since you landed on FFM, he knew this was genuine love especially since he had been alive for so long.

He decided just to go for it.

Hey if you reject him, he’ll just go into hiding on Flower Fruit Mountain somewhere for the rest of eternity, easy peasy!

Wukong took a breath as he gently grabbed your face, taking your attention away from the night sky to him.

A warm smile spread across his face as he took ahold of your hands in his. 

“Hey starshine, I’m not really experienced with this sort of thing. But, I think we should take this to the next level if ya know what I mean… Because I LIKE like ya. So, what do ya say?”

Of course, you liked him as well giving him a kiss in response.

"Sorry I should have asked... Is that ok?"

A big goofy smile spread across Wukong's face as he scooped you up in his arms, nuzzling his nose against yours under the cool glow of the moon.

"Of course, that's ok moonlight, it's always ok for you to do that. In fact, you should do it again."

[unpredictable-probabilities]

The Pleasures of Dreaming and Waking

Summary:

Hob spends time with Dream after a long week at work. As they chat over their usual table, they grow more comfortable in expressing their fantasies and endeavour to explore them.

Notes:

Inspired by this fic written by @delta-pavonis <3

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 4,716

Square/Prompt: B3 - Somnophilia |  @dreamlingbingo

Ship(s): Dream of the Endless | Morpheus/Hob Gadling

Additional Tags: Established Relationship, Kissing, Neck Kissing, Making Out, Nipple Play, Smut, Eldritch Sex, Light Bondage, Consensual Somnophilia, Blow Jobs, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Orgasm Edging, Multiple Orgasms, Sweet, Sweet/Hot, Cuddling & Snuggling, Naked Cuddling, Post-Coital Cuddling, Porn Without Plot, Porn With Feelings

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/59931001

———

The sounds of conversations combined with the clinking of cutlery and soft footsteps is making Hob sleepy.

He had a long week at work and only managed to catch a break now that it's Friday; he stifles a yawn behind his hand and mumbles thanks to the waiter that just brought their order to their table.

“Are you well, my love? You seem exhausted.” A frown creases Dream’s forehead, and Hob still marvels at how Dream is more comfortable with expressing his emotions now, especially since they started dating three months ago; a fact that Hob still has trouble believing if he thinks about it too hard.

Hob nods and straightens up in his seat, trying to blink the fatigue out of his eyes. “I'm alright, love, don't worry. Just pretty knackered with finals week coming up. Been up late catching up on grading papers and all that.”

“You should have informed me sooner. We could always meet in my realm while your physical body rests.”

“Yeah, but I'm quite fond of this place,” Hob admits. “This table is where I was sitting when you first came back. I like talking with you here.”

“You are stubbornly sentimental,” Dream chides, though there's an unmistakable smile on his lips.

“You love it,” Hob says pointedly, taking some chips from the basket.

Dream makes a sound that might have been a chuckle. “Very well. What woes did you experience in the world of academia today? I have heard it is part of unwinding to talk about how one’s day has gone.”

“You learned that in one of those relationship books you read in your library?” He walked in on Dream reading that sort of book once in the Dreaming during their first month of dating. Dream vanished the book in an instant when he saw Hob, but Hob had been so endeared that he had pushed Dream against the shelf and kissed him senseless.

“Perhaps.” Dream drinks from his mug of hot chocolate to hide his face, but not before Hob sees the subtle pink on his cheeks.

Hob grins and reaches for Dream’s hand resting on the table, fiddling idly with the cuff of his sleeve. “Nothing remarkable happened, at this point even the students were just waiting for the weekend so classes were rather quiet. Then afterwards I went with some of my colleagues to that pub near the university, and we just traded mindless gossip to purge our brains of essays and staff meetings.”

Dream turns his hand so his palm is facing up, and he brushes his thumb back and forth on Hob's wrist as he speaks. “I am sure the other patrons enjoyed hearing gossip from academics.”

“I'm not so sure I did, honestly. My mate Nick runs his mouth after a few pints, and I didn't need to hear that he had a wet dream about our colleague from the Arts department. Does that fall under your jurisdiction, by the way? You just know whenever someone's fantasising in their dream?” Hob has already asked a lot of questions about Dream and his function, which Dream always answers with some degree of amusement, but Hob still feels like there's so much more to learn.

“I am able to see into someone's dreams should I wish, but unless a nightmare is crossing a line in troubling them or other similar concerns, I have no obligation nor desire to do so. And any fantasies they might have are created by their own minds.” Dream pauses and tilts his head slightly to the side. “Do you wish for us to do the same? To share such intimacies in my realm?”

Hob feels his face warm and he chuckles. He still gets caught off-guard by how direct Dream can be nowadays. “I thought you said you can't read minds?”

“I can sense daydreams. And yours are often loud.” The corner of his lips tilts up in a smirk.

“Well, can you blame me? People dream about that kind of stuff all the time, but for you and me, it would be real. It would actually be you.”

Dream’s smile disappears and he seems to hesitate, his face becoming guarded.

“Hey,” Hob says gently, stroking Dream’s arm with his fingers. “We don't have to, okay? All the sex we have here in the Waking is already perfectly amazing.”

“Crude.” Dream's eyes twinkle in amusement and he seems to relax. He pauses for a moment before continuing. “You have seen my form in my realm. How… different. I look.”

Hob raises an eyebrow. “You mean being paler and taller than an average human and having galaxies for eyes? And wearing that sinful robe that would be considered indecent in the streets of London?”

Dream lowers his gaze and is obviously trying to suppress a smile. “I am trying to be serious, Hob.”

“Oh I'm perfectly serious. I'm surprised you didn't sense my daydreams whenever we walked around your realm with you wearing that thing.”

“I… did. But.” Dream trails off, his fingers tapping restlessly on the inside of Hob’s arm.

“What's wrong?” Hob rarely sees Dream be so hesitant.

“I am… afraid. To hurt you, in my realm. If we engage in physical intimacy.”

Hob’s eyebrows lift in surprise. “Hurt me? You could never hurt me, love.”

“I might.” Dream’s voice sounds strained with worry. “In my realm I am… more. In the throes of passion I might lose control of my humanoid form.” He looks right at Hob. “You inspire such greed in me, Hob Gadling. I will have you for as long as it takes until I am sated.”

Hob swallows, his mouth suddenly dry. If Dream intends to discourage him by what he just said, he's spectacularly failing. “So exactly as we always do it, then?” he manages to say lightly.

Dream huffs out a chuckle. “You are not daunted at all.” He sounds almost impressed.

“‘Course not,” Hob says easily. “Is it something that you want, though?”

Dream nods slowly. “I have thought of it. More than once. I should like to have you in my bed, at the heart of my palace. So the very essence of our ardour seeps into each fibre of my realm, that none may doubt my affections for you.”

Hob takes a shaky breath, unable to look away from Dream. They should probably be talking about this somewhere more private, but right now the most prominent thought in Hob's mind is if Dream wants it just as much as he does then why haven't they done it yet.

“Okay, okay,” Hob says mainly to calm himself. “Since we both want the same thing, is there any way I can make you more comfortable with the idea? We can use safe words, and I bet you can sense anyway if I feel like something’s too much for me.”

“I am uncertain about that. I have never been able to sense your discomfort in any of our couplings.”

“That's because I've never felt any discomfort, love. Like I said, everything we've done has been amazing, and I think you know by now that you're not the only one who can get greedy,” Hob says cheekily.

A smile curves Dream’s lips. “That is a fair point.”

“I know. So then. Um…” Hob looks around at the pub. “D’you wanna go upstairs and talk about it?”

“You are not too tired?”

“Oh believe me, I'm more awake now than I've been all week.” Hob calls over one of the waiters and tells him that they're taking their food to go.

“Eager, beloved?” Dream raises an eyebrow playfully after the waiter leaves.

“No more than you, Your Majesty.”

Dream makes a low humming noise in his chest that might have been a purr or a growl. Either way, it's definitely a sound of approval and that's all Hob needs to practically drag Dream upstairs as soon as they get their takeout bag.

Hob takes a shower first because he's not sleeping with his boyfriend while carrying the grime of public transport, nevermind that it's the quickest shower he's ever taken in his life.

When he gets out of the bathroom wearing a fresh shirt and sweatpants, he sees Dream on his bed wearing black silk pyjamas, sitting up against a pillow and reading Lord of the Rings. The whole image is so soft that it makes Hob’s chest ache.

“I like seeing you like this,” Hob says as he sits next to Dream.

“On your bed?”

“Relaxed.” Hob kisses the tip of Dream's nose. “Do you still want to talk about it?”

Dream nods. “Do you?”

“Yeah. Thanks for waiting while I showered.”

“You were not gone long. I had not even finished the chapter I was reading.” Dream closes the book and puts it on the nightstand. “I still do not know what happens after Frodo and Sam meet Merry and Pippin.”

“Oh, should I shower for longer then so you can continue reading?”

“If you step in that shower again I should be inclined to join you.”

“Talk first,” Hob says firmly, rather proud of himself for declining such a tempting offer. Granted, he declined in favour of a much more tempting one. “How'd you feel about safe words?” he turns to his side to more comfortably face Dream, folding a knee under him.

“They could prove to be useful, yes. What words do you recommend?”

“We can use the traffic light system. Green means continue, yellow means slow down, red means stop immediately.”

Dream considers for a moment. “And you promise to use them with no hesitation?”

“Yeah,” Hob nods. “And you should too.”

Dream slowly blinks at him, looking surprised.

“You can use them too,” Hob clarifies. “You're allowed to say if you're uncomfortable, yeah?”

Dream is silent for a few moments, forehead creased in thought. Then he slowly nods. “Alright. And I should like to give you control to shape the Dreaming.”

“What?” Now it's Hob's turn to be surprised.

“My realm is tied to my temperament. I may cause a storm without meaning to. Or an earthquake. While you might not be powerful enough to stop these things entirely, you will have the ability to shape the environment to conjure whatever shelter best suits your comfort.”

The first thought in Hob's mind is how utterly sweet Dream is to even think of granting him that much power over his realm; Hob is aware that that much trust given to him is not to be taken lightly.

The second thought following closely after is that Hob wants to see just how much he can make Dream lose control while sharing his bed. He wonders if he can pleasure Dream enough for him to make actual fireworks appear.

Dream chuckles and rests his forehead against Hob’s. “Your priorities continue to fascinate me, Hob Gadling.”

“Shall I show you how fascinating I can be, then?” Hob reaches up to run his fingers along the collar of Dream's silk shirt.

Dream purrs low in his chest and holds the back of Hob’s neck to slot their lips together.

Hob groans softly and clenches his fist into the fabric of Dream's shirt, pulling him down to lie on top of him.

“I thought you wished to do this in my realm,” Dream says playfully against his lips, pupils already blown.

“Still do. Take me there then, my lord.”

There’s sand and the familiar feeling of drifting off to sleep, and then all at once Hob feels a different bed under him, smooth as satin and softer than goosefeathers.

Dream is looming over him, his black robe nearly slipping off a pale shoulder. His blue eyes flicker down to Hob���s clothes, running over them with a curious gaze.

Hob looks down and realises that he’s wearing a bottle-green robe, loosely tied at the waist and with nothing else underneath. “I owned something like this back then,” he recalls. “In the 1500s, I think. It was always comfortable.”

Dream nods in approval and noses along the line of Hob’s jaw. “Good. Here you shall have every comfort.” He sinks his teeth in the skin beneath Hob’s ear with just enough pressure to make him shiver.

“I wish I could carry your marks with me to the Waking,” Hob says breathlessly.

Dream pulls back to meet his eyes, and for a second Hob wonders if had said something wrong.

“If you truly wish it, I can extend my consciousness to my physical form currently sleeping beside yours. I will make love to you in the Waking as I do here. And you will have my marks until your body heals them away.”

Hob feels his eyes widen, his heart thumping in his chest. And once again he wonders why they’d never done this before. “Will I be able to feel what you do to my physical body? Even here?”

Dream considers it. “I can put your consciousness in the liminal space between sleeping and waking, just enough for you to feel my touch in your realm. Is this what you wish?”

“Yes,” Hob whispers, absently realising that he has his hands clenched into fists on Dream’s robe.

“Very well.”

Dream closes his eyes, and suddenly Hob feels smooth hands trail slowly up his thighs, even when Dream hasn’t moved at all. Cool fingers wrap around his cock and he gasps, hips jerking up against Dream’s thigh.

“Did you vanish my clothes?”

“I did not think you would need them.” There’s an edge to Dream’s smile, and when he opens his eyes the blue has vanished too, replaced by pools of black with brilliant stars at the center.

Hob pulls him down for a kiss, and Dream opens up immediately. Hob loses himself in the feeling of their tongues against each other and Dream’s body undulating above him. They both still have their robes on, but Hob can feel a hand slowly stroking his cock, a mouth around his nipple. He hears a whimper that might have been his but never felt it leave his throat.

“Dream,” Hob gasps, hips stuttering against Dream’s thigh. The sensations in the Waking haven’t stopped, but with most of his consciousness here in the Dreaming they all feel distant, like a vivid memory that can never live up to the real thing. “Touch me. Here.”

“As my love commands.” Dream unties Hob’s robe with one hand before pressing their lips together again.

Hob sighs against the kiss as he feels Dream’s hand caress his torso, gliding lower and kneading the flesh of his thigh. He wraps his arms around Dream’s neck, runs his fingers through soft midnight hair that seems constantly ruffled by wind despite the lack of any breeze.

The sensations in the Waking stop abruptly, and before Hob could begin to wonder why, he feels teeth sink into the inside of his thigh.

“Ah!” Hob arches his back, breaking the kiss and pulling Dream’s hair. His cock twitches and he feels the heat of Dream’s mouth wrap around him—in the Waking. Hob moans in frustration, his cock hanging heavy and neglected in the open air. “Do you even have plans to fuck me here?”

“I am marking you in the Waking. That is what you wish, is it not?” Dream rakes his nails lightly across Hob’s chest, scraping a nipple and making Hob twitch.

“Just in the Waking? What happened to being greedy?” Hob quickly bunches up Dream’s robes, thrilled to find that there’s not a stitch of clothing underneath. He grabs Dream’s bare arse and pulls him flush against his groin.

Dream throws his head back with a shaky gasp, his eyes fluttering close.

Hob pulls him down and mouths at pale clavicles, licks at Dream’s icy throat and nips at his jawline.

Dream surges down to kiss him, and at the same time Hob feels his thighs being spread open in the Waking.

Dream's tongue reaches into him from both ends, soft and slick and far longer than any human tongue should be.

Hob squirms as he feels Dream’s tongue move inside him in the Waking, feeling full and empty all at once. He grips the back of Dream's neck, ruts against his cock.

Dream makes a wounded noise and returns the enthusiasm, grinding down hard until Hob’s sure they're carving a dent into the plush cushions.

Hob feels precome on his belly, and he needs Dream inside him now but he also needs him to never stop moving.

And then Dream does stop, even his movements in the Waking.

Hob opens his eyes, mind clouded in a haze of confusion and lust. He sees Dream looking around their surroundings and blinking.

Hob begins to realise that even though they're still on the same cushions, they're no longer in Dream’s bedroom.

The ceiling made of a starry night sky is replaced with an elaborate mosaic of figures that might be deities, and the marble walls are now stained glass windows letting in colorful sunlight that dapples on the steps leading down from where he and Dream are.

Dream shifts to his side to give Hob room to sit up and look around. He realises that they're on a raised platform overlooking a great hall with long tables and tall double doors at the far end. They're the only ones here, and the vastness of the place has a solemn quiet to it.

“Where are we?” Hob’s voice echoes softly.

“You brought us here, beloved.”

“What?” Hob frowns and looks around again, paying more attention to the details.

The wall behind them is painted with doves and bells so intricately that Hob can almost hear them, and he suddenly recognises that the deities depicted on the ceiling are who the townspeople considered the gods of marriage from about six centuries ago.

“This is a wedding hall,” Hob breathes. I brought us here to shag on the altar.

Dream blinks at him slowly. “Why did you choose this place?”

“I didn't mean to,” Hob scratches the back of his head sheepishly. “I guess, um…” he feels his face warm up. He looks down and fidgets with the sheets. “I'm not proposing or anything, I don't even know what that would mean for you but… I s’pose I liked the symbolism of it. Us getting married…” He trails off and hesitantly meets Dream’s gaze again.

Dream is looking at him in bewilderment, and Hob feels panic rise in his throat, images of a rainy night and a black figure storming off flashing in his mind.

“Look, I can't control what my brain thinks,” he hurriedly says. “You can whisk us back to your room—”

Dream moves and pins him down on the cushions, claiming his lips with teeth and tongue and the intensity of the birth of a star.

Hob’s body quickly gets back with the program, whatever he was feeling before they got interrupted by the location change has come back in full force, and then some.

He grunts when he feels Dream slip a finger inside him, the sensation so vivid that it takes him a second to realise that it's happening in the Waking. Dream adds another finger, slick with the lube that Hob keeps in his nightstand drawer, or possibly dreamstuff, Hob doesn't really care. He grinds down on empty air here in the Dreaming, a moan of pleasure and need escaping him.

“You wish to be united with me in this manner?” Dream is actually breathless, and his form is starting to blur at the edges like a freshly made oil painting hanging on a lord’s wall.

He has a subtle glow about him, and Hob can believe that it's coming from the stars in his eyes that seem to burn brighter now. His dark hair ripples softly as if underwater. It's as if one of the gods from the mosaic came to life just to loom over Hob and look at him with utter adoration, as if Hob is the one worthy of worship.

“Of course I do.” Hob threads his fingers through Dream’s hair, caresses his face, his shoulders. Marvelling at how he's allowed to touch a being such as this. “I'll have you in all the ways you would allow,” he says quietly, reverently.

Dream presses their foreheads together. “Hob.” The syllable drops from his lips like a prayer and then he's kissing Hob again, their robes vanishing in an instant.

Hob cups Dream’s face in his hands, his eyes falling close as he inhales the scent of rain and ozone and fresh ink on paper.

He feels Dream's fingers pull out of him in the Waking, and his stomach clenches in anticipation.

The familiar shape of Dream's cock teases at his rim, and Hob realises with a gasp that it's here in the Dreaming. 

Dream tenderly takes his hands and pins them beside his head on the pillow, their fingers lacing together.

Hob is already slick and soft and open, and his eyes roll back in his head when Dream slips in, filling him up inch by delicious inch as Dream’s lips move down to his neck. Their fingers remain intertwined, but Hob feels soft touches up and down his body, becoming more insistent as Dream thrusts deeper into him.

Hob’s eyes flutter open to see that shadows seem to be bleeding from Dream’s form, shaping into tendrils that act as his limbs. Hob doesn't even bother to try counting them, especially not when one tendril touches his nipple, flicking and rolling the hard nub until Hob is squirming and jerking his hips up to meet Dream’s thrusts.

The teeth that scrape and nip at his neck are definitely sharper than usual, and a shiver runs down Hob’s spine, prickling his skin with goosebumps and making his toes curl.

Dream tightens his grip on Hob's hands and slowly pulls out before slamming into him in both realms.

“AH–!” Hob arches his back, or tries to, but finds that the shadow tendrils are pinning him to the bed; wrapped around his waist, his arms, holding his thighs open as Dream continues to thrust into him.

Dream's face is pressed in the crook of Hob’s neck, making growling noises that could never come from a human throat.

Hob’s weeping cock twitches from what little friction Dream’s body is giving, unable to get any more of it no matter how much he strains against the tendrils. Dream slams into his prostate and Hob cries out a sob, tears forming in his eyes.

Dream slows down and pulls back to look at him, the tendrils loosening their hold. “Colour, my love?” His voice sounds wrecked.

“Green,” Hob whines, taking advantage of his mobility to raise his hips and take Dream deeper into him. “Green— Fuck, Please…”

Dream captures his lips in a searing kiss. The tendrils wrap around Hob once more, but this time they help him move, raising his hips to meet Dream each time, faster than what Hob would have been capable of on his own.

He can feel Dream's teeth on him in the Waking while he's being fucked into his own mattress; on his chest, his jawline, his neck, oh his neck, Dream is making good on his promise to mark him, sucking bruises onto the skin and soothing them with his tongue. When that tongue moves down to his nipples, Hob feels so keyed up that he can almost feel it in the Dreaming as well.

A tendril wraps around Hob’s cock and strokes him quickly while another one teases at the slit, and it's all too much and not nearly enough. Hob doesn't quite remember how to breathe, and he tightens his grip on Dream's hands as the tendrils manhandle him to buck and rut against his lover.

The air feels charged, like the moment before a lightning strike, and Dream is panting in Hob's ear as a sudden wind whistles through the wedding hall, the light from the stained glass windows changing colours rapidly as if the sun is moving erratically outside.

Seeing Dream so affected is what hurls Hob over the edge, and he comes with a roar that might have broken the windows but he can't hear anything else above his own voice and the pleasure lighting up his spine.

Dream speaks against his ear, soft lips almost caressing. “This dream is over.”

Hob slams back into the Waking with a strangled cry, frustration crashing over him when he realises that Dream has a hand wrapped around the base of his cock, stopping his release even as Dream repeatedly fucks into him, his other hand bracing himself on the bed for leverage.

The whiplash of going from a mind-shattering orgasm to his cock heavy with wanting has Hob going half-mad.

“Dream–!” he digs his nails into Dream’s back, squirming as he tries to get free of Dream's iron grip, only succeeding in deepening the angle of Dream inside him.

“Shall I fuck you into unconsciousness, my lover?” Dream is in his human form again but his blue eyes are no less piercing. “I can take you here, and in my realm, going back and forth until you can no longer distinguish between Dreaming and Waking. Giving you endless pleasure in my realm where you will not tire, and holding back your release here until I decide that I am done with you.”

A full-body shiver runs through Hob; Dream's voice only stokes the fire already burning Hob from the inside, his words making Hob’s cock ache and twitch in desperation.

“You are mine, Hob Gadling,” Dream's hips stutter out of rhythm before speeding up. “Not to capture nor possess. But to adore and—ah—cherish. Mine to care for. Mine to love.” His eyelids flutter and his breaths are coming in pants. “Just as I am yours. To do with as you please.”

He thrusts deep and Hob cries out, his nails raking red lines across Dream's back.

A flash of concern appears on Dream's face as he looks down at him.

“Green, green!” Hob screams before Dream could even think to slow down. “Dream, my love, please…” he whimpers.

“Yes,” Dream says breathlessly, leaning down to kiss him. “Your love. Yours,” he says against Hob’s lips. He deepens the kiss as he strokes Hob’s cock in time with his thrusts.

Hob clenches his hands into Dream's hair, moaning wantonly in his mouth as his hips buck up and down of their own accord.

“With me, my love,” Dream gasps. He slams into Hob’s prostate and twists his hand.

Hob's vision goes white and he screams, his body thrashing under Dream as he spills and spills between them. He hears Dream’s guttural cry in his ear and it only flings him higher into his peak, where nothing else exists except the two of them and Dream’s spend filling him up more than he thought possible.

Their embrace tightens as they shake and tremble, listening to the sound of each other’s breaths as they begin to calm down, their chests heaving.

Dream gently slips out of him and they both groan at the sensation. “Have I fulfilled your expectations, my love?” he asks quietly, brushing away a lock of hair that had stuck to the sweat on Hob’s forehead.

Hob’s brain takes a few moments to understand the question. “Have… What…” he tries to form a coherent sentence while still catching his breath. “I only ever expect for both of us to feel good, and I think we'd been pretty vocal about that just now.”

Dream smiles, a soft thing that brightens up his face. “Indeed. And now, you must sleep,” he brushes a thumb across Hob's cheekbone. “You have been exhausted this week, and even immortal bodies need rest.”

Hob just hums. Given how his eyelids are already feeling heavy, he doesn't have much room to argue.

“Cuddle?” he manages, sleepily running his fingers through Dream's hair.

Dream leans into his touch. “Both here and in the Dreaming.”

Hob vaguely registers Dream waving his hand to clean them up, and then Dream is lying down beside him and snuggling close, tucking his head under Hob’s chin.

Hob wraps his arms around Dream, drifting off to sleep and smiling at what a lucky bastard he is.

———

(Dreamling Bingo Masterpost)

(Masterlist)

[eloquent-edits]

Hello!!!!

I'm writing a rivals to lovers office AU and am in need of some inspiration. Can you please do a list of office AU prompts? I don't mind if they get suggestive.

Absolutely! (Also thank you for being the first person to request prompts :3)

Character A and character B have issues with their work computers at the same time, and the poor IT guy has to deal with their bickering while fixing the computers

The printer is constantly breaking and A can’t help but snidely remark on B’s struggle every time it happens

B critiques A’s work whenever they get the chance, claiming A needs to do better if they want to get up to B’s level (the criticism is actually kind of helpful, just poorly worded)

B’s desk is across from A’s, leading to stare-downs when the other seems to be slacking on work and eyebrow raises when personal calls are taken

A leaves anonymous sticky notes on B’s desk about office drama, rumors, and random news stories to see what sort of conversations B likes (B usually looks at these with confusion, throwing them away buT THEY KEEP SHOWING UP WHY)

In the company project group chat, A and B don’t acknowledge each other outside of emoji reactions unless it is necessary

They are forced to work together on a major project with much longer hours than they expected, leading to sleep deprived A actually being nice to B in the mornings (they share a quiet moment at the coffee machine)

B’s ex comes into the office as another company’s assistant, and A can’t help but be concerned at the grimace and pain in B’s eyes

A starts using the printer incidents to ask about B’s history and get to know them better

A celebration at work includes a happy hour, so B dresses up just a little more than usual and A cannot stop staring

B notices A is lingering around their desk more and teases them about wanting to take their spot (A definitely wants to take them in a fight right?)

A’s car won’t start in the parking lot, so B offers to jump it… it’s the first time seeing B less professional (let’s get those sleeves rolled up and a couple buttons loosened from the button-down)

The AC breaks while only a couple people are in office, meaning it’s up to A and B to try and fix it while waiting on maintenance, leading to B on a ladder and A most definitely trying to not stare at their butt

C, an older friend at the office, retires and throws a massive party where A and B get a little too drunk, and B accidentally compliments A instead of criticizing them (A doesn’t know how to process it and B refuses to acknowledge this ever happened)

After A openly disagrees with one of B’s ideas, B confronts them privately, getting a little too close as A is stubborn and standing firm (give me that tension you can cut with a knife, give me that turn away because otherwise one of them will do something they regret)

B finds A asleep at their desk one morning and can’t decide whether to wake them up for the meeting or to let them sleep longer because this is definitely not normal for A

Turns out A worked their ass off to get a major promotion, one that B was eyeing for a while, which makes B jealous and get a little snappy

A is shifted to another area of the office and an annoying coworker, C, takes over the old spot. B finds the change welcoming and unsettling (“They’re not here to bother me anymore…” “That’s a good thing!” “… Yes. I suppose you’re right.”)

B is called into A’s office to discuss another coworkers’ weird behavior, which gives A the opportunity to call B out on their behavior around A

“It’s like on day one of me working here, you put a note in your calendar that said to torment me whenever you could.”

“You’ve gone from criticizing everything I do to actually being somewhat nice and helpful and then right back to being an absolute prick! I don’t understand it at all. What changed? You still seem to hate me, so why be so kind? Why?”

B doesn’t respond with words, just by slowly reaching out to touch A’s hand and swiftly pulling them into a kiss (ideally B would explain more later but that’s up to you hehe)

[notmorbid]

the vanishers.

dialogue prompts from the vanishers by heidi julavitz.

what happened to me could never happen to you. tell yourself that.

they told me it was all in my head.

you were a mother to me when no one else wanted the job.

why be fair? nobody's been fair to me.

you are all subtlety and whispers.

we were all in some form of love with ____.

in other words, i made shit up.

you really do look kind of dead.

i heard you'd been sick for a long time.

there's nothing you could tell me about yourself that i don't already know.

i recognize you now.

it might be good for you. a disruption to the given system.

according to ___, i'm pathologically territorial.

anything can appear meaningful, at a backward glance.

we are not that sort of people.

most meaningful sentiments are cheapened by articulation.

how would i know, if you never told me?

i am, though. sorry.

i don't hide things from you on purpose.

i practice a no attachment policy. i am all business.

it's no big deal to be used by strangers. it's when you're used by people you know that life becomes unfathomable.

don't worry. your life is about to get better.

when you're ready to fight, give me a call.

what was your authorial intent?

i don't know if i'd call it a career. more of an inspired hobby.

we could be of mutual use to one another.

anything you divulge can be used against you.

i don't go where i'm not invited.

everyone has vulnerabilities. everyone has a weak spot.

when will you stare your sad life in the face?

revenge is not a compelling therapeutic goal.

hate is a form of emotional attachment.

maybe that's your problem. thinking it can be understood.

to forget is to respect the past.

you must have missed yourself.

your good intentions mean nothing.

the past is not past if it is always present.

memory is an act of murder.

i'm an expert at ruining people's lives. it's the one talent i possess.

you might learn things you wish you hadn't.

in some cases, a lie can be more valuable than the truth.

people can be remarkably thoughtless.

tell me why you don't love me.

you are such a parasite.

anything i have of my mother's, i've had to steal.

i know better than to ask anything of you.

what does someone have to do for you to classify them as a monster?

your emotions are like water. they pour onto the people around you.

i tried to say i was sorry.

you're doomed to fail because you're too scared to try.

disappearing isn't very hard when no one is looking for you.

there's no need to be sorry. that's why i don't tell people.

to think i've been afraid of this. to think i've been afraid of you.

come. i'm not going to hurt you.

do you believe i saw a ____?

you really do look like shit.

were you trying not to be found?

i should lie to you, but i don't know you well enough.

to heal is to entomb forever the sickness.

i'm going home, wherever that is.

what good has running away ever done?

there is no knowing the truth from ____.

some people have no taste.

you deserve to have every ounce of marrow sucked from your bones by a hummingbird.

i am not too scared to try.

i want, more than anything, not to be alone.

i'm glad you understand. maybe you can make me understand.

you think i need a massage therapist? what i need is a gun.

it's important to remember that those commit murder are not making smart choices.

i am my mother's daughter. you should be worried.

we don't want people to talk more than they're already going to.

winter in new england is always coming.

sometimes you can resolve the unresolvable by accepting it as unresolvable.

so you're not looking to get better?

reasons are for the survivors. they do the dead no good.

'good health' means being unaware of one's health.

i'm sorry. i can't ever seem to tell you what you want to hear.

don't worry about what i want to hear. tell me what you want me to know.

what you want a person to know is often the last thing you want a person to know.

there's so much i can't tell you. no matter how much i want to.

people overestimate the value of expression.

blame is the cord you can never sever.

[roboticchibitan]

I posted about this in the yarn and fiber dyeing community run by @littlebirdinagarden but I'm posting it for tumblr at large as well. Seeing all the people preparing for tour de fleece had me wishing there was some sort of challenge or event for people who dye yarn/fiber. Except I am physically disabled and can't do a "dye x number of things in Y amount of time" type challenge because when I dye yarn it takes literally all my spoons for that day. But. I was thinking.

What about a list of prompts to choose from as inspiration for a colorway? I'm thinking if I could get enough people interested I could do a monthly dye "challenge" that's a list of maybe 10-15 prompts for people to interpret how they want. You could do just one or all of them, if you had the time and energy.

The problem is I don't have that many mutuals that dye so idk if I could really get enough momentum going for this. Sometimes my yarn dyeing posts take off but mostly they get less notes than my other fiber arts posts. Which is unfortunate because dyeing yarn is really fun and I think more people should do it. It's like painting except you get to take the finished art and make more art out of it which is absolutely EXCELLENT.

[saintsenara]

now, if you'll excuse him, he has to go and fall to his knees before either dumbledore or voldemort.

ok hear me out why must there be an or. why can’t we have snape/dumbledore/voldemort all at once (in the interest of unhinged ships that really could be rather hinged if u think about it, i am waiting patiently for u to tell me how actually, we very much can have snape/dumbledore/voldemort)

hot.

anon, you are so right that snumblemort has the potential to go really, really hard and i am now entirely compelled by it as a concept.

i back each of the constituent two-person pairings entirely - i've written about snumbledore and riddledore, and i know there's an ask sitting in my inbox about snapemort [which i promise i'll get to].

and, i realise, i back them for exceptionally similar reasons.

both snumbledore and riddledore work because the potential for horror baked into them [the age gaps, the fact that dumbledore was both men's teacher, and so on] exist in conjunction with the fact that there would clearly be the foundations for genuinely meaningful relationships chilling cutely among all the ways in which they're fucked up.

all three men are the only people in the series who can be feasibly described as the others' intellectual equals - and all three share the same outlook on what the purpose of magic is and how one ought to relate to it [even if dumbledore hides this behind his shame at how his belief in the value of magic and magical experimentation as power triggered the whole grindelwald debacle...]. i think there's an immediately compelling prompt for a fic in which the three end up being forced to work together to solve some sort of mystery - the chance to pour over ancient manuscripts in candlelit libraries, or race against time to unravel the base of a curse or a poison, or try to figure out a series of puzzles or clues contained within dark objects would be right up their alleys, and nothing's hotter than a man who takes an interest in your sapiosexual pretensions.

but i'm also really interested in the ways in which snumbledore and riddledore really work as the most plausible pairings in which dumbledore can be made to do some actual self-growth.

his canonical relationship with both snape and voldemort is born of his own self-loathing - when he tells snape, in the prince's tale "you disgust me", he's speaking to the memory of a man whose selfish desire to impress someone he loved was utterly destructive; he is not disturbed by meeting the young tom riddle in half-blood prince until he describes himself as "special", and his loathing of the adult voldemort's obsession with fame and notoriety is evidently caused by the fact that these were both things he once [and still] desired.

and he's forced in canon to confront this in his relationship with snape - after snape agrees to kill him in half-blood prince - and to come to regard snape as brave, loyal, steadfast, and trustworthy. he's never - for obvious reasons - made to do this for voldemort in canon [and, indeed, he is strikingly oblivious in half-blood prince to the things about voldemort which inspire harry's sympathy - above all his lingering grief over his mother's death], but i think there are numerous plausible scenarios in which being forced into closer proximity to voldemort could bring this about. the canonical voldemort has an extremely profound - if also extremely odd - sense of honour, and he also possesses the capacity to - in his own little way - be surprisingly brave, and i always think there's something quite moving about fics in which dumbledore has no other option but to recognise this.

and dumbledore having to drop his mask would be good for both snape and voldemort. it's clear in canon that one of the reasons voldemort dislikes dumbledore is that he considers him a hypocrite [especially because he decries voldemort's ambition for public attention while courting such things himself] and that one of the reasons snape dislikes him is that he feels he conceals things from him because he distrusts him, even as he's asking him to risk his life for the order. both of them learning why it is that dumbledore constructed his public mask of benign eccentricity would help them make sense of why he is the way he is.

and it would allow all the similarities between the three to fully emerge. one of the reasons why snapemort really slaps as a ship is because snape and voldemort have so much in common - especially their experiences of childhood poverty, their disappointing fathers who they greatly resemble, and their periphery to the posh, pureblood world they both long to be fully part of and also long to undermine and humiliate. and dumbledore has the shadow of a similarly difficult childhood - and a similarly difficult relationship with his father and his legacy - lurking over him. all three also carry the weight of life-altering grief [even if voldemort is the one of the three unwilling to admit to this]. i think there's a lot of opportunity for the recognition of each in the others that they all canonically use to drive their own loathing to mutate into something which might look a lot like respect...

do i think it would be healthy? ...eh, probably not. all three clearly have really fucked-up views on intimacy and love, for one thing, and i doubt whether any of them really has the potential to let go of their original ways of seeing the others, to be properly honest, or to relinquish the power dynamics established between them from the beginning of their acquaintances.

and yet...

[bromcommie]

case of attachment

seventy years of silence v1.2 alt

I would love to hear about BOTH of these, but if you'd rather pick one, go ahead!!! <3

Hiya, thanks for the ask! I'm nothing if not yappy, so you get both <3 1. case of attachment — this is one of the AO3 Tag Bingo ones I started a month ago but never ended up submitting, and now I'm kind of glad I didn't 'cause I want to work on it more. The prompt was Ghosts, which is nothing if not rife with potential considering who I'm writing about. Because I seem incapable of writing full-scale AUs, though, I didn't take it literally, but the fic's also not...completely devoid of supernatural elements, I guess? I'd call it bordering on magical realism, maybe. It follows a couple of episodes throughout Steve and Bucky's lives through the lens of spirits and the various mythologies surrounding them (as well as the individual and collective fears/hopes they're usually inspired by), because that's a 3 am rabbithole I tend to fall down frequently. There's also something fascinating to the idea that the fear of possession is a fear of loss of identity or personhood or control, but also that possession has historically been used as an explanation for aspects of an identity that are unacceptable being actualized or apparent (mental health issues, behavior not correlated to someone's place in society, sexual desire, etc.) I’m not summarizing this very well, but there’s a hell of a lot of fun to be had with the meaning of ghosts and spirits, is what I’m trying to say.

The name itself sort of comes from the word dybbuk, which from what I understand is just a noun derived from the Hebrew word for 'to cling', but was translated specifically as 'state of attachment' on Wikipedia, and I just found that to be a somewhat strange and clunky but really interesting phrase. Not to mention fitting. Every love story is a ghost story and all that, and every ghost story is about the inability to let go.

In any case I feel like I'm on a roll with this one, so I might even publish it soon!

2. seventy years of silence v1.2 alt — Okay, this is the first script the mockup posters series spawned, so pardon the incoming word vomit as it is my baby—and it kind of ties into the previous one in the sense that it's supposed to be not entirely linear nor lucid in segments (hm, it's almost like there is a pattern starting to emerge here...). Anyway: (more or less) solo Winter Soldier movie, here goes.

I just couldn't stop thinking about how there's a whole goddamned movie missing between Winter Soldier and Civil War in more ways than one, and also about just how great it would've been to see Bucky as the WS (but tbh also just as Bucky) explored more as both the vessel for American Cold War anxieties and the ghost—ha—of their horrific consequences, as well as a storytelling conduit for observing several periods of 20th century history, cosidering he's supposed to be a key player in much of it yet is essentially a complete outsider to the world as a whole and (superficially) to the human experience of it all. I just think it'd work well as a lead up to the politics-adjacent events of CW, too. So on a background level I guess that's what I'm trying to do here via flashbacks that piece together the long road so far, as well as what continuity there is to Bucky pre + post-fall.

On a primary level, it's more or less a classic post-CATWS fic in content, if not form: Bucky post-DC trying to stay out of shit but caught between unwillingly retracing his history when Plot Events keep happening, figuring out how to both get the government off his ass and make sure his captors don't get to him without it becoming an outright revenge spree, figuring out who this Steve character is and if he even wants him to find Bucky (although for the time being I'd say present day Steve features less heavily than usual and is not necessarily the explicit focus, which is not to say that he doesn't play a role and that it's still not gay as all hell), and just figuring out what the fuck is going on in general and how to survive. I also loosely borrow from a couple of the comics runs both with the Department X/Red Room stuff and in order to set up an intro to the Superhuman Registration Act/Sokovia Accords, because I fucking hate how CW handled all that. (Surprise, surprise.)

So basically there is...definitely too much going on there. I've put it on hold a little these days until I figure out what exactly I want to do with it and because it keeps breaking my brain, but I still work on it here and there, so there's still hope.

I've already written way too much, but here's a snippet for the hell of it since I was actually just editing this yesterday:

[tj-dragonblade]

[FLUFFBRUARY FICLET] Before I Go

Rated: G Word Count: 849 Tags: Fluffbruary, Fluffbruary 2024, fluff, sap, established relationship, Hob Gadling loves Dream of the Endless | Morpheus, Dream of the Endless | Morpheus loves Hob Gadling, kisses, parting is such sweet sorrow, flower symbolism

Fluffbruary Prompts: Day 16 neighbor desire horse Day 17 magazine tactile curtains Alt prompts: evening, caress

Additional inspiration taken from a couple of these kisses

Title credit and musical accompaniment: Before I Go by Yanni (Spotify link)

Summary: Season-of-Mists-style visit, some time later in their relationship

On AO3

It is a lush and expansive garden where Hob finds himself on a beautiful summer evening—flowers climbing the trees and blooming in every direction, nocturnal birds twittering their songs in the branches overhead, crickets chirping accompaniment in the undergrowth. The stars twinkle brightly in the blue-velvet sky and the moon shines full and brilliant, a silvery wash of illumination over the landscape. The path under Hob's feet winds between flower beds and lovely stone borders, toward a burbling stream running musically beneath the trailing branches of a willow tree. He follows along to a little wooden bridge arching over the stream and across, to a decadent little bower of trellises wreathed in climbing ivy and dripping with twilight-purple wisteria.

There's a familiar figure waiting there for him, and he smiles as he draws near. "Hello, love."

"Hello, Hob." Dream's eyes glitter softly like the stars, just as dark and depthless as the sky, just as beautiful. The moonlight illuminates him like a work of art, pearlescent skin and raven-feather hair, smoke-shadow robes draping him in regal refinement. He looks ready to hold court, to receive an audience, and Hob is awestruck all over again that this unfathomably powerful otherworldly creature deigns to be his friend, to be so much more; to accept his affections, to return them. He is so very lucky, and he knows it.

He looks up at Dream, who is currently half a head taller than him, and he can feel the fondness shining in his own eyes. "I'm not awake, am I."

"No." Dream's tiny little smile is both affectionate and regretful. "I apologize for usurping your dream; there is something I must attend to that will keep me away for some time. I did not wish to leave without making you aware."

Hob furrows his brow. "It's not Hell again, is it?"

"No. Nor do I anticipate any danger or risk to myself, my realm, but there may be. Delays. In resolving the matter."

Hob knows better than to ask for specifics in this sort of thing when Dream has not given them, regardless of how curious he may be. "Will Matthew be with you?"

"Yes."

"Then I know you're in good company and I'll hear from you if needed." He wishes, in some deep fundamental part of himself, that he could accompany Dream on these sorts of errands, but in this also he knows better. There are so many things in existence that are far beyond what his immortal-but-still-mundane mind can comprehend.

Dream steps forward, closer. "Dearest Hob. I would bring you with me, were it advisable. But as it is not—" he lifts a hand to Hob's face, touches him in the gentlest caress "—I will bid you farewell, and promise to return as soon as is feasible."

Hob places his own hand over Dream's, holds it there as he leans into it. "I'll be waiting, dove. Be safe."

Dream makes no reply, just gazes at him tenderly, leans in until his forehead rests against Hob's. He tangles his fingers with Hob's, splays them behind his neck and tilts in slowly until their lips meet.

It is soft, sweet, short, this kiss; and then another, a gentle farewell before Dream draws back. His hand drops from Hob's face but Hob can't quite let go, following it down, clinging; he is full to the brim with a dozen different emotions and all he wants to do is kiss Dream again, so deeply and so thoroughly that Dream will still taste him long after they've parted, will carry his love with him on whatever this errand is and know that Hob is waiting faithfully for his return.

He's leaning back in already, helpless in the face of this desire, but redirects at the last second, planting a soft kiss on Dream's cheek instead. He won't demand more than was given, not when Dream has duty weighing heavy on his mind, not when Dream has shown such consideration in making sure to take his leave. He is respectful of Dream's time and Dream's responsibilities and he will not do anything to make Dream think otherwise.

But Dream's eyes flash as Hob draws back, and then Dream has seized Hob's bicep and yanked him back in, is kissing him soundly. Hob can't help a delighted smile, at that, but it's quickly lost in the fierce parting of Dream's lips, the yearning wanting lament of his fervent mouth, and Hob loses himself in returning the sentiment.

That. That is a proper kiss goodbye, Hob very carefully does not say aloud, blinking as Dream lets him go.

"Until I return, devoted mine," Dream breathes, the stars in his eyes blazing, and steps back.

"I'll be waiting," Hob says again, the 'as long as it takes' and 'I'll miss you' and 'I love you' unspoken.

Dream smiles, the tiny kitten-soft smile that Hob knows is just for him, and takes his leave.

Hob stays, beneath the twining ivy and the curtains of clinging wisteria, and watches him go, the music of the crickets rising gently in his wake.

= Drafted: 2/17/24 Posted: 2/17/24

Why did I pick wisteria? Gosh I'm so glad you asked! Because it's pretty, and it made for lovely visuals. BUT then I looked up meanings also, and serendipitously I found:

1. Purple wisteria symbolizes royalty and undying devotion or love that transcends time 2. Victorians would include a cluster of delicate purple blossoms in their bouquets when they wanted to send a message of overwhelming desire and passion. In particular, the Wisteria was considered to say “I cling to you” as it would cling to the branches of other trees. Wisteria sends such a strong message of romance in most cultures that they’re usually best used for declarations of devotion or for wedding arrangements. 3. Wisteria—Welcome; Meeting you means so much to me 4. Wisteria gives a symbolic representation of beauty, love, long life and immortality, grace, bliss, honour, patience, endurance, longevity, releasing burdens, victory over hardships.

(There are relevant meanings to the the ivy (fidelity, everlasting life) and the willow (flexibility, adaptation) as well)

Sources: 1 2 3 4

[hillerskalibrary]

Kära Hillisar, dear followers, my fellow Young Royals fans,

Season 3 filming has started today, and what better time to announce a celebration of everything the show has already given us? So wet your pencils, chuck that writer's block down the drain, and mark your calendars, because with deepest pride and greatest pleasure we welcome you to the very first Hillerskalibrary fandom event:

Young Royals week 2023!

The week will run from the 24th to the 30th of April and is open to all content creators who are active in the Young Royals fandom. A playlist for Stedrika? Hell yes. A 5k fic centered on aro-ace Sara? Bring it on! A quick stick figure Wilmon doodle on the back of your Espresso House bill? We wanna see it!!!

What is Young Royals week? A fandom event where all YR content creators are invited to create new content for the YR fandom. Each day of the week, we here at the hillerskalibrary will post a new prompt to inspire creators to come up with a short fic, a quick doodle, or something else entirely. The end result will be a sort of potluck of new content to read, admire, enjoy, share and discuss!

Sounds cool! How do I sign up? You just did! Because this is an open event and we want to encourage as many people as possible to participate, there are no formal sign ups. If you wanna join, you can, simple as that!

What pairings/characters are allowed? All of them. No really! We might do more specific events in the future, but for this one there is no limitations for certain pairings (canon or not!) or characters - as long as they feature in YR somehow.

What type of content is allowed? All of it. No really! Many people think of fic, of course, but there's plenty of other possibilities: playlists, meta, headcanons, gifsets, collages, picrews, ... (amigurumi wilmon, anyone? no?)

I'd love to participate, but I'm not sure I'll be able to create something every day. What if I don't have time? Or am not inspired by the prompt? Then you skip a day. Or two. Maybe you'll do nothing all week and create seven things on the last day. Maybe you'll do three things for one prompt and none for the next. It's all good! No stress, okay?

I'm not much of a content creator... can I still participate? Look, someone's gotta comment on all the fic and reblog all the art, no? (also I think you could TOTALLY do that stick figure doodle)

All right then, I'm in!

That's what we like to hear!

If you have any more questions, please don't hesitate to ask! Until then, we hope you're as excited as we are - only four weeks to go!

-Lis

[gottagetshiver]

Shiver's Fics of 2024

As inspired by Scoops, I'm rating all the fics I've written this year from least favourite to most favourite :) I'm not counting cowritten fics, so Sexmas isn't on the list.

A lot of this year was tied up in writing two novel length fics that have yet to be posted, so it's been predominantly short oneshots out of me but hopefully that's set to change in the next couple months!

In 9th place: A Phantom's Touch. I don't dislike it, not at all, but I was writing it alongside several other fics at the time and basically just got to a point where I was writing it just to finish it. I still like the basic concept and wish I'd have the foresight to give it the time it deserved because I think it could have been really, really fun.

8th place: Peace In My Ear. This was written based on an old prompt from my and Neuro's unholy doc of smutty ideas. Again a fun write, but because I was writing it with a deadline and I am so, so terrible with deadlines, it got rushed and looking back on it now, I would do parts of it differently.

7th place: Faulty Wires. This is the fic that reminded me why I don't like writing phone sex lmao. I went right from writing Peace In My Ear to this, which is just a heck of a lot of e-sex to write in the span of a few weeks. That said, I rated this one higher because I think the idea is both more fun, and my writing feels like it flows a bit better to me.

6th place: Levels Of Detail. I reread this fic as I'm making this list because honestly? I didn't remember it whatsoever. I think it's a fun idea and the first 3/4 are lovely, but I wish I'd developed the ending more. I think I fell into the classic "I just need to get this thing finished" trap I tend to with it and should've taken a break to recharge before writing the ending.

5th place: In Safety There Is Bravery. Now this is a fic I really look back on and enjoy. I had a blast exploring a version of Dream whose size kink leads him to want to be the smaller one between him and his partner. I've not written him that way before and it was fun. This was also a fic in which I explored some insecurity for the first time through writing, and it was an important stepping stone for me as a writer that I'm now using in other works that are yet to be posted.

4th place: Illuminated. Here it is, the sequel to the fic that nearly killed me dead. I never thought I'd touch the Golden Roots, Yellow Velvet universe again, but Sam fit so perfectly into it that I just had to let him have his moment in the cuck chair spotlight. It ended up being some of the most fun I've had writing this year, and I do have plans to continue the breeding bench series!

3rd place: The Games We Play. Something about this fic changed me on an atomic level to write I think. It was just one of those ones that sort of possessed me while I was writing it, you know? Everything about it felt like it fell together naturally in my mind and the words were easy to find. George's brattiness, Dream's desperation, all of it meshed together into something I'm really proud of and that's why it's earned the top spot of my shorter oneshots for the year.

2nd place: September Blossoms. I wrote this fic while I was going through a pretty hard time, and I credit it with helping me to keep looking forward at the time. Flexing my creative muscles to create my own little version of omegaverse courting rituals was a delight, and then putting them into practice was even more so. I don't know exactly what all clicked together for me on this one, but I feel like it's some of the best writing I've done to date.

Winner winner chicken dinner: Honeysuckle Jam. C'mon, how could 1st place go to anything other than HJ? It's a big, big turning point for me as a writer as the first novel length work I've written, and the first big project I've managed to complete. Writing a novel has been my dream since I was a little kid, and for those who don't know, I had given up on it a decade ago when I lost all my functional reading and writing skills due to a health problem. Back then, I would have been fucking thrilled to write something that was 1k and mostly coherent, and now here I am, having completed and posted a 70k fic and with two more on the go that'll be even longer and more complex. HJ healed something within me very dear to my heart and for that, I think it may always hold the number one spot for me.

[thedragonagebigbang]

Bang Creator Interview: Tumblr: @exalted-dawn  |  AO3: Exalted_Dawn

The Collaboration period has begun! In these quiet months before works are due, we want to foster a sense of excitement, camaraderie, and celebration among our participants. To that end, all participants were given the option of a formal interview by our mod, Dema, or an informal “ask-game” survey. We hope you enjoy getting to know our phenomenal creators as much as we have!

Interview with Exalted Dawn

Ed and Dema talk collaboration, developing a personal style, and a bunch of stuff Dema had to redact but is leaving in to build suspense. 

Dema: I know in the beginning you were debating whether to participate as a writer or an artist, and you went with artist. What was the main driver of that decision?

Ed: It was definitely a combination of a few things. Workload and time allotment being the main influencing factors. My attention span when it comes to writing tends to be a bit all or nothing. I can have periods where I can churn out one thousand words in an hour and then go like two weeks without writing anything at all 😂 And then on top of it, with the new game coming out I was sorta trying to factor in how that would affect my ability to stick to a schedule. Drawing is a lot easier for me to sort of one and done over a weekend so I figured it might be better to start there for my first Bang.

Dema: Oh this is your first Big Bang! I don't think I knew that 😂

Ed: YUP LOL

Dema: When you do a collaboration like this, that isn't a commission but is based on another person's work, how do you navigate that process?

Ed: Well, from a starting standpoint, I really like to have a lot of communication with the person I am partnered with. I love collaboration work and really strive to capture the energy of whatever source material I'm working from. So getting the author’s opinions on their own story beats is a huge help. But aside from that, the element of choice in this sort of project definitely played a part. I got to choose a prompt that fascinated me, and then from there, I read through the material the author currently had and chose a few scenes that really struck me with a strong mental image. Something that when I read it, I immediately thought "Oh that would be neat to see in a picture!" From there, it’s back to touching base with the author and making sure that what ideas I have sorta line up with their vision. I want to make sure its respectful of the work its being based on, while still sorta playing to my own interests as an artist and a fan :3

Dema: You're a very prolific artist, how do you keep all these ideas organized? Do they behave themselves up there in your brain?

Ed: HAH! I would like to say that there's some sort of rhyme and reason to my creative process, but if I were being honest, they mostly tumble about in my brain. When I get stuck on an idea, I tend to fixate on it and continue to develop it in my head the more I think on it. With this prompt specifically, I was immediately hit with this idea of a vibe I wanted to get across in my art from the moment I read it. And then that continued to build and build, until I was left with these pretty complete ideas,  accompanied by atmosphere and layout, that I became stuck on. After that, I just laid them out on paper. (The bounty of inspiration certainly didn't help to make the decision easy XD)

Dema: Are you drawing inspiration from anywhere besides the source material for this piece?

Ed: I AM! There were several pieces my mind immediately went to when I was reading through the source material. Lord of the Rings (specifically the cinematic scenery of the Mines of Moria) and The Song Of The Sea were both big ones that I drew immediate parallels to. The huge scale and vast landscapes as well as the beautiful pattern work and 2D story book style typical of Cartoon Saloon’s work were both things I immediately latched onto for this. But more abstractly, having just read [REDACTED], I was already in the mindset of [REDACTED] when I got assigned to this prompt. Since this one is also leaning into the [REDACTED] genre, it sorta pushed me towards these concepts of strong lighting contrast— stark shadows played against bright light. Bold silhouettes.  I was even considering playing with a black and white inked style with colored accents and a heavy focus on crosshatching to get that sort of [REDACTED] look at one point.

Dema: Mmmmmmm how much of that am I gunna have to redact 😂[narrator voice: it was a lot]

Ed: You can totally just delete the second half if that helps XD

Dema: I don't want to DELETE it I'm just gunna redact it haha. IT'S FINE. Also I love that. Sin City vibes.

Ed: YEAH!

Dema: How did you develop your personal style?

Ed: Many years of frustrated grunting at my own artwork kjdhfhjsgvfd LOL no but actually, what I consider to be most typical of 'my style' (and for this question, I'm going with the main illustrative style I typically use for projects like this, since I definitely have multiple) came about pretty much by accident for the most part. I basically stumbled upon it. I had spent many MANY years developing my skills from, like, middle school up through college, first with pencil and paper and then with a very large desk mounted display tablet, and was sort of trying to get to a point where I was satisfied with the look of my own work. It was a slow process, and I hadn't really been satisfied with my progress and where I was. In an attempt to sort of switch back to the more familiar feeling of pencil and paper, I had gotten an ipad to draw on since it was of a more similar size. I had been playing around with it, and was struggling with the pressure settings on my pen for making line art specifically, so I sorta just threw my hands up in the air and said "Y'know what?! I'm gonna try lineless cause why not!" I made this small, lineless doodle of my Dungeons & Dragons character at the time, and suddenly it all just sorta clicked into place! I've been basically drawing like that ever since, but with the aforementioned handful of stylistic exceptions XD

Dema: What do you feel like you are striving for in your body of work? Or I guess, is there a theme or a feeling or a "spirit" in your work you're hoping to convey?

Ed: HMMMMMMMMMMM THAT IS A GOOD QUESTION! I wouldn't really say I'm striving for any single theme all throughout my work (part of the reason why I have multiple distinct styles is so that I can really draw out the desired vibes I'm aiming for in each individual piece). But from a general sense, I think I tend to focus a lot on capturing emotion and atmosphere, especially in the lighting and color I use. As for the spirit I often capture— I don't think it's super intentional on my part, but for my lineless artwork specifically, I definitely get that there is this sort of adventurous, almost whimsical spirit to a lot of what I draw. Rather than dark dramatic pieces, with lots of sharp lines and dynamic movement, there's this sort of softness and quietness to a lot of my work, like capturing a peaceful moment between all the big dramatic stuff. Even for the tonally and visually 'dark' pieces. Which— honestly— I think speaks a lot more to my own personality and preferences than I maybe intend 🤣

Dema: I love that a lot. Thank you for such thoughtful answers, and for taking the time to be interviewed today! I can't wait to see the final piece.

[pseudowho]

Hello! First off, I love your work, and second, I'm not sure if this is a dumb question but how do you actually get an idea and turn it into a product? Is it a natural talent or have you refined your writing skills to actually create something out of a mental prompt/inspiration?

Sorry if you've been asked this before, I'm just asking because college admission essays are actually KILLING ME and I feel like I have so many fleeting ideas and thoughts but I can't actually make anything worthwhile of them. Ur a writer, and a pretty amazing one at that, so I gotta know if this is a skill issue or if there is hope for me.

I think I used to be good at using words, but now I can only make an academic essay with check-boxes and rubrics and can't write anything less rigid than an elaborate answer to a question. I've tried to write things down and explore points yet still there is no morale to anything I write and it sorts of trails off into a recollection/timeline rather than something dynamic that can actually be explored. DO YOU HAVE ANY ADVICE AT ALL ????? How am I supposed to take a vague, shapeless idea and give it some soul?

IM SORRY THAT THIS IS LONG AND CONFUSING but yeah sending loveeeee <3

Hi!

Ohhh, it's time for another edition of

Haitch's Useless Writing Advice 🪴

First of all, thank you for loving my writing. I feel privileged and touched every time someone reaches out to me to tell me my stuff is good. It's been busy here lately and lovely comments always give me a glow.

Secondly: I have not refined this, I haven't been taught anything, and honestly I'm newer to writing than most of the people on this place (Tumblr). I'm ultimately an amateur, I do not know at all how I do it, and as such I have no legitimate advice to give.

My husband thinks I'm a non-writer who happens to write (I think this is what you said, @mrhaitch?). I never had any intention of doing this. I never had some 'writer' aesthetic in my head. Honestly, when I did start writing fiction (on here, October 2023), I had only a background in the occasional academic writing, and being a voracious reader.

I've always solved puzzles, and word games, and world-built in my head. Just in the background, for myself only. Nothing I ever shared. I suspect I have a very thorough grasp of 'storytelling' as a concept, from the sheer volume of fiction from all cultures and eras that I've read and enjoyed.

I have a good memory, and tend to 'write' whole stories in my head, line by line, and slow-cook them in my head for the day until I get a moment to write it down. I grasp the feel of the piece, and how I want the reader to feel, and translate. Not in any sort of intentional way though I think. I don't actively think 'how do I make them feel xyz?'

When I do write it down, it tends to go straight into my phone, as I have a very old beaten up notebook laptop, and no desktop, so...phone it is!

I hesitate to call it 'natural talent' as that's really arrogant, and I feel like a cheat or a fraud already, for being 'good' at something with no effort on my part. Writing anything has never been effort to me. I never had to stop and think too hard with essays at school or University. I never honestly thought about it. I'm vocally very eloquent and can talk my way into anything, but never really thought about my writing until...well...this whole Tumblr thing.

So in that sense...I don't think I can be of any help. And I really really hate that, because I fucking love to help.

My advice: It sounds like you're doing the right things to build a structure, but where is the heart? As you said, you're looking for soul. Formulas, and brainstorms, and writing guides, give you the structure. For me, personally, the heart comes from this extensive memory back of books and stories I've devoured, and a direct translation of feelings to words. I'm convinced emotions have a flavour and texture, and words do too; you can match them up to get that heart in your writing.

Wow, I hated writing that. How truly, utterly, disgustingly useless 🪴

I'm so sorry. I'm shit at writing advice. I don't know how I do what I do.

Love,

-- Haitch xxx

[shadowquill17]

20, 22, 46, and 67 for the writer question ask game! >:3

Hi Magpie, thank you so much! ❤️💕💖

20) Have you noticed any patterns in your fics? Words/expressions that appear a lot, themes, common settings, etc?

Themes that come back a lot, mmmh... well, misunderstandings are my bread and butter, whether it's small ones in the middle of dialogue, or the premise of the whole fic. So maybe that one?

For the words and/or expressions that come back a lot, I honestly don't even WANT to look, because if I do I'll start noticing it all the time and it'll ruin my groove. 😅

And for the settings... well, the boys certainly do spend a lot of time at the office, so I feel like it's not MY fault if a lot of scenes I write end up taking place there. Add a bed in there (with its obligatory justification), and it's the perfect space. 😜

22) Are there certain types of writing you won’t do? (style, pov, genre, tropes, etc)

Style: I feel like my style shifts depending on the story I'm telling, but that happens pretty naturally, so I don't think I would like to try and write an entire story in a style that didn't feel easy to me. After all that's the whole reason I write, to see the sort of writing I want to read come to life under my eyes! ✨

POV: I have no issue with any POV, I think anything can work if you MAKE it work. I personally wouldn't write fanfiction in 1st person POV anymore, because that's what I wrote when I started and so it feels a bit young to me? These days I mostly write fanfiction in 3rd person POV, but I've written some In the Flesh fics in 2nd person POV, and I still think it was the best fit for it.

Genre: I'd feel a little intimidated with some genres out there, since I’d need to work on familiarizing myself with them, but I'd be down to experiment if I felt inspired.

Tropes: I am a fervent supporter of the idea that you can make any trope work if you've got something to say. Bad tropes are bad when they're used on auto-pilot, because it was easy or convenient. But tropes used in a thoughtful way, to be built upon and deconstructed and explored in all the intricate details they imply? YES PLEASE.

46) How would you describe your style? (Character/emotion/action-driven, etc)

Already answered here!

67) Do you prefer prompts and challenges, or completely independent ideas?

Ooooh that's a really good question, and quite relevant to me personally because I almost never write with prompts or challenges. 😅

I wish I could! But to be honest they just make me nervous. I don't like having a deadline, I don't like not being sure I haven't missed some secret rule, and most of all I struggle with fitting the story around elements that didn't come to me naturally.

Honestly I really admire people who can do it, and I have a lot of fun reading prompt-inspired or challenge-inspired fics? But for me, it's just more pressure to try and control what I'm writing instead of just following the flow and having fun, and honestly I put enough pressure on myself already.

I do love to be part of events and stuff, but then the most I'll do is try and assign a fic I already know I want to write or that is already mostly done to a prompt that happens to work for it, like I did for above all I want you to be warm, for example. Anything more elaborate, with required themes or words or settings, is not for me. 😬

Aaaaah that's it for my ramblings 😅 Thank you so much for asking Magpie, I hope this made sense! 🥰❤️💕